


Breathtaking

by newisalwaysbetter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bad Decisions, Biting, Breathplay, Choking, Consent Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Dissociation, Dom/sub, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Facials, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, POV Marcus, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Pre-Canon, Prostitution, Self-Destruction, Sex Work, Sharing a Bed, Swearing, Teasing, The 100 (TV) Kink Meme, The sexy kind, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, by a little bit, sort of!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/pseuds/newisalwaysbetter
Summary: Based off a kinkmeme prompt: "Abby knows she can say no, logically, but a lot of the time it's easier to go along with it. Or it's hard to say no for whatever reason (like Jake being in prison). So most of the time she just doesn't say no. When new partner finds out it's less she wants to get up to everything without qualm, and more she doesn't think she can say no for whatever reason, it suddenly throws everything they've ever done into question in their mind."In which Marcus discovers a secret and semi-accidentally takes advantage.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Abby Griffin/others
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyxierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/gifts).



> Obligatory warning:  
> This work depicts Abby doing sex work out of what she considers necessity. Jake is alive, albeit imprisoned, for some of this, and I don't cover the potential infidelity aspect at all here. This work also features Abby getting walked in on while performing said sex work, as well as sex and kink including breathplay with a lack of verbal consent which could be construed as noncon. If any of that is an issue for you, you may want to look elsewhere. Mind the tags, DLDR, and do let me know if you think anything is improperly or inadequately tagged for.

He first catches her the night after the arrest.

Marcus finds himself grateful that the private barracks of the guards' corps lie buried in the bowels of the Ark. After a given day patrolling its length, the evening beep of the barracks key card rings _last call_ to his wearied mind. With the exception of his personal quarters, which contain a rare window out to space, the barracks are a maze of stark, practical metal tunnels which echo even worse than the rest of the ship.

His fellow guardsmen tend to resolve their loneliness more bodily than he prefers, and certain repetitive noises are difficult to ignore. What his men do legally, in private, is their business, much as he would like to forbid such activity on his station.

This particular racket, however, seems to be coming from a nearby hall. For a moment Marcus considers what a less disciplined man might do. Ignore it, probably. And after the day he's had...

And yet some part of him still wants blood. Marcus rounds the corner.

And finds Abby Griffin bruising her knees in front of one of the guards.

It’s a cruel vision. She’s still dressed in her clothes from the day, loose braid still trailing down her back, but last he remembers that annoying mouth was cutting him down to size for arresting her husband, instead of...lapping, impatiently, at the leaking dick of one of his men.

An ugly, jealous part of his brain snidely wonders how long she’s been doing this, or if she'd just been waiting for Jake to be out of the picture. The more reasonable part of him knows the only reason his nemesis is on her knees like this is specifically because of her husband’s arrest hours earlier.

And he recognizes the man she’s blowing, too. The kid is early twenties, all pimples and peach fuzz, and clutching the wall like his goddamn legs have turned to jelly. Abby’s got to be either the best or the first mouth the kid’s ever had on his prick. Maybe both.

This young man, he notes distantly, stands assigned to the prison shift early this next morning. In, perhaps not without coincidence, the hours just before Jake Griffin’s scheduled execution.

He probably shouldn't be surprised at all. And yet...it's _her_.

They’re at the other end of the hall. There’s still time for him to walk away. Public indecency, while frowned upon, is more common than he'd like in the barracks. And Marcus finds it difficult to believe that anyone could force Abby Griffin into such a state and stay intact. _Still…_

Maybe it’s protocol, maybe it’s disgust, or maybe it’s the arousal of it all that has him on the approach.

The kid has his eyes closed, and Marcus is accustomed to walking softly when occasion calls, so he pauses directly in front of the kid, right behind Abby, entirely unnoticed right up until he clears his throat.

The kid opens his eyes, sees Marcus--and shoots off his load right there into Abby’s face.

There’s a couple moments’ chaos. The kid yelps and covers himself. Abby coughs, hacking up cum onto the metal floor and cursing creatively. She’s trying to wipe her face on her sleeve, but only succeeding at rubbing the mess further into both, when she looks up, pushes her hair out of her face, and sees who he is.

Abby flushes, under the mess on her face. Marcus observes her as coolly as he's able, considering the circumstances. He's already preparing a series of replies to any possible insult.

Instead, she remains on the floor, glaring up at him through teary eyes.

He ought to do something--look away, or offer to help her up--but decides that any condolence would disgrace her anger. The only dignified thing to do is to return her stare.

Marcus's voice is all ice when he calls out to the cadet. He doesn't take his eyes off of Abby.

The kid sputters out an answer to a question he didn't ask. Marcus isn’t really listening.

“What you do, _consensually,_ in your room, is your business.” He leans heavily on the fourth word, sounding her with his eyes, in the impossible-to-believe case that she might need a moment to escape. But as he expects, Abby just looks away. She's shaking her head in disgust.

Marcus watches this display for a long moment: longer than the safety of a coworker should allow. Probably. Then he shifts his focus to her erstwhile partner, who is still fumbling to button his jeans. “Cadet. You understand that this _isn't_ in your room.”

The kid rattles off an apology punctured with excuses. Marcus tolerates this just long enough to preserve Abby’s dignity. It would be improper to look too eager to ruin the plans she's made behind his back.

“That’s enough," he snaps, cutting off the kid's babbling. "Janitorial duty for you, for the rest of the week." Abby, making no move to stand, glares daggers. "Do better next time.”

There’s whining from the kid, which a low growl silences. “Effective immediately, you’re off this morning’s watch shift. Report to Maintenance at your appointed time instead.” As he pronounces it, he can’t look at Abby. She’s still on her knees somewhere by his shoe, now gazing down at the floor.

It’s cold comfort that they all have to make their own choices, but if she had wanted to see her husband, she should have found a better way.

At the time, he had thought it a horrible kind of respect to walk away and leave her there on the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a few months after the last, an unspecified time in the year or so between Jake's death and the launching of the hundred. 
> 
> Warnings: this chapter includes breathplay, bdsm, and sex with unsafe practices and procedures, including extremely dubious consent. There's also depiction of dissociating and less-than-great handling of that. If any of that is an issue for you, I don't recommend this bit for you. 
> 
> That said, do let me know if you find anything improperly or inadequately tagged!
> 
> \--And if our preferences happen to align, please enjoy. <3

At least when it happens for him, Marcus has the good sense not to take her in a hallway.

He's unsurprised to find her waiting in his room, as he has so many times before. Their routine is established enough for him to cross the room in three impatient strides, shedding his jacket as he goes, and wrap his hand around her throat.

Admittedly, he'd been less than certain the first time she'd shown up at his door. She'd looked so small in his doorway, shifting back and forth from foot to foot, that for a moment he'd been unable to keep the surprise off his face. Then Abby had opened her mouth, and he'd preemptively let his eyes go cool.

"You know that I won't look past things in exchange for your mouth."

"That's generous," she'd scoffed, and tried to push past him into the room. "Asshole."

Cute, if he paid attention to such things. Marcus had stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Abby narrowed her eyes, and for a moment he'd believed she might hit him. It wouldn't have been the first time. That month, even.

Instead, Abby had given him a tight-lipped smile without a trace of sunshine, and said with perfect innocence: "But you'd want it otherwise."

_Heavens._

It must have been under thirty seconds that he stood frozen, contemplating an old fantasy suddenly resurrected in vivid detail. Abby had taken that opportunity to slip under his arm and stalk into his quarters, at which point murder had once again crossed his mind...

Marcus shut the door. Then he leaned his forehead against it for a few seconds, marshaling any strength this woman had yet to suck out of him. As if _that_ phrasing was doing him any favors...

When he'd finally turned, he'd found Abby sitting on his bed, removing her shoes. Marcus drew a ragged breath. "Why are you here, Abby? Come to make another promise you can't keep?"

That time, her eyes flashed. That spark of defiance drew him in, a baited hook, and Marcus had drawn closer. This was about politics, it all was, it certainly wasn't about her shrugging off her jacket to expose her bare shoulders, nor about this particular woman sitting on his bed, sitting at the perfect height for...other things.

"You're not kicking me out." With steely firmness. As if it were her decision.

"You're out of your depth, here." He had been close enough, then, to cast a long shadow over her sitting on his bed. Abby pushed herself to her feet, but without her boots she had already lost an inch of her already-not-considerable height.

_Cute_ , he'd thought, and then, _Not the point_.

"I could live with that." Abby leveled her gaze at him. "For tonight."

"Still trying to make an exchange?"

"If you like, Kane."

The first time, he'd felt the need for armor. Now, Marcus drops his jacket to the floor; there's no need for armor, here, where they both know who's in charge. Abby swallows, and his grip tightens.

Annoying as she can be, he's careful not to hurt her. All he wants is to see that surprise, that fear, rise behind her eyes...

_Intoxicating._

That vote today would have passed, if not for her. Fortunately, she also makes a pretty sight beneath him.

Marcus knows, from all their long years of animosity, that regardless of pressure, Abby will die before she apologizes for anything. He settles for the once-fantastic idea of watching her gasp.

He'd floated this idea after the first month of their assignations. It had been half a joke; he hadn't expected her to agree, to pop another button on her blouse, and to tilt her head back to expose her throat.

Careful as in all things, he's instructed her to tap three times if she needs escape. She has yet to use it; Marcus is nothing if not meticulous, deliberate, tightening his grip by infinitesimal fractions. Best not to enjoy too much of this at once.

Abby's always so tense when she appears at his door. She's much less so after he's done this. Her face is so tight, pinched even, all day long. (He sees it enough to know.) But here, like this...

When first he wraps one hand around her throat, she glares with that spiky guard he's so used to. But as he slides a hand into her hair and tugs, wheeling her sideways and guiding her onto the bed, his hand tightens all the way down. Something like fear is rising behind her eyes. By the time Marcus has climbed astride her, that facade has begun to crumple. He can see her gritting her teeth.

"Relax," he presses, and frees the other hand from the tangle of her hair. He pets her face--those sharp cheekbones--and she softens beneath him, sweet as anything. "That's it; you know the drill..."

That seems to do it. The last of the tension drains from her shoulders, and her eyes flutter. It's an inch of give, and it's enough. Abby gives a little sigh.

"I'm sorry? I didn't hear that."

It's not really a question. _Just a little more..._

"Almost...perfect."

She's not gritting her teeth anymore. Marcus lets go by fractions. If he gives her too much leeway all at once, she'll gasp in air so fast it hurts. He's made that mistake once already, and though much could be said against him, Marcus likes to believe that he learns from his mistakes.

And this is what taking care of her looks like.

When his hands have loosened completely, he massages the circulation back into her neck. Abby is drawing long, ragged breaths. He'd like to believe that they're becoming more soothed.

Marcus leans on his elbows and lowers himself onto her, delivering a gentle bite to the curve where her chin meets throat.

_Mine._

_If only._ What he would give to keep her like this forever, quiet and subdued and calm as a clear sea.

\--But then she wouldn't be _her_...

Still, there are ways to extend this pleasure.

Marcus holds there for another long moment, feeling her pulse beat between his teeth. It would be easy enough to nuzzle into her neck from here...

...but, unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of _control_.

So instead he delicately removes his teeth from her neck, and asks, "Are you ready?"

Her dark eyes peek out at him from under fluttering lashes.

The sight takes his breath away.

" _Do it..._ "

Her voice is raspy. Marcus makes a note to get her water after.

Then he says, "Open your shirt."

Abby replies without opening her eyes. "Do it yourself, Kane."

"Your loss." 

Then he puts the fingers of both hands between the buttons, and pulls. The blouse snaps open, and a few buttons pop off. Abby is lying remarkably still, but her brows still furrow, and she opens her eyes and shoots him a look that anyone else might not have recognized as irritation. Marcus cocks his head and gives her a humorless smile. Abby rolls her eyes.

Under the shirt, her chest smells like sweat and medical-grade cleanser. His nose wrinkles, and Marcus withdraws, sliding a hand beneath her bra as a concession. That makes her startle a little, as it does each time, and he smiles.

"You should take better care of yourself, Abby." It's a chiding tone, the kind he might use when peaceably dismissing one of her cockamamie plans in council. At the same time, he traps her nipple between his fingers and tugs. It's a kindness. A small offering.

Even still, it pulls a delicious little whimper from between her teeth. "Make me?"

"With pleasure."

Marcus catches hold of the teat under his hand, and pulls it out of her shirt. They're small enough that one can fit in his palm.

_Delicious._

He doesn't mind kissing her belly, even if she could use a shower. What he's getting for the first time tonight is more than worth it. Marcus pops the button on her jeans, easy, one hand, and gets the zipper down. This part they've practiced so many times.

He squeezes her chest, and tugs on the nipple until he hears a proper moan. If there's one thing he knows about Abby, it's that keeping her distracted keeps her from making trouble.

Marcus doesn't even bother pulling down her unders. He's half-tempted to just cut the crotch of them open, but that's not a repair he'll be willing to make later. So he tucks the little strip of fabric to the side, exposing what he's feeling for.

She shivers and spreads her thighs a little wider when he drags a finger through her wet.

"Even if it is just a physical response...I like this look on you."

He can find that eager button by touch now, and gives long, slow strokes to her clit as he pulls himself up her body again.

"Always so sensitive," he whispers. Her hips are bucking up against his hand, and he can feel her climbing steadily towards that peak. "Good, Abby. Good."

She comes with her mouth wide open and an adorable kitten whine. Her pupils are blown wide, and her lower lip trembles.

It's not the first time he's wanted to kiss her, but something in what's left of his instincts wants to kiss her...better.

That's confusing. Marcus allows himself to touch her face, and then her mouth.

It's too much after that. He leans in close, out of her eyeline, and whispers low, as though it's a secret. Maybe it is.

"It's not too late to back out, you know."

When he props himself up on one elbow, he can't keep the worry off his face.

She's impassive. Marcus studies her for long moments, but his own emotions are screaming too loudly to read anything in her eyes.

"Abby. Do you still want this?"

His professional voice seems to do it.

"Of course," she breathes, and reaches for his belt.

\--Of course she's goddamn perfect inside.

Each long, thorough stroke forces a low, pleased growl out of his chest. Marcus grips her by the nape of her neck, and her chin tilts up so she can't look away. He wants to be able to look in her eyes, and to make whatever's happening here undeniable. And also, to stare at her lips, at the closest he'll ever get to that mouth.

He's not restricting her throat, but Abby's still taking in short little breaths. Her lips tremble. Marcus frowns.

"Relax, Abby, I'm not hurting you." Catches himself. "I don't want to hurt you."

Her eyes seem very far away.

"Speak to me."

"Yes," Abby breathes.

_That's not good enough._

With a huff of effort, Marcus manages to slow his thrusting to a halt. "What do you need?"

"Yes," she mutters again. "Keep going, yes, don't stop..."

Frowning, he starts to move again, but gentler than before. Abby doesn't react when he reaches a hand between her them to toy with her clit. He's concentrating with full seriousness, so busy coordinating his whole body, that it takes a minute or two before he hears the wet, stifled sob.

A different woman might have thrashed or wailed. He almost wishes she had, when he glances up. Abby stares blankly at the ceiling, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Her fragile throat bobs with a broken little sound.

"No." He leans in to cup her face, forgetting for a moment that that motion will grind his cock harder inside of her. Abby makes a tight, strangled sound in the back of her throat, and her face twists as if about to shatter. "Abby, no--"

He's speaking to himself, not her, but her eyes widen as if he'd put a hand around her throat. "Yes, please, yes..."

"No, that's not what I--" Marcus leans back, lays a hand on her belly (she shudders), and drags himself out of that needy, welcoming hole.

"Abby..." The parts between his legs ache like hell, but he'll survive.

Besides a little gasp when he pulled out of her, Abby remains silent, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

He doesn't like it. She looks like a doll.

What do you do in a situation like this? He doesn't know, but it seems right that she should be covered. Marcus pulls the blankets out from beneath her, and tugs them over her bare body.

Somehow sitting silently beside her seems wrong, and so Marcus reaches out and lays his hand, feather-light, on her hairline. As he pets that little spot on her head, using just his fingertips, he realizes: how funny to think that this may be the gentlest moment they've shared in years.

_Please come back to me._

Ten minutes later, she blinks several times, quickly.

Five minutes after that, when she clears her raspy throat, he takes his hand away.

She coughs. It sounds like a laugh.

"Couldn't finish?" she rasps.

He can't look at her. "You weren't in a good place."

Her voice is hollow. "Deciding things for me again, huh."

"I wasn't comfortable with seeing you like that."

"Oh, _you_ weren't comfortable?" Abby props herself up on the bed with shaking arms. Her murmur is scathing. "Can't imagine what _that's_ like..."

"Excuse me?" That turns him. "I was under the impression that you liked--"

"You were wrong."

"Why didn't you speak up? If this isn't about what we both like, then why would you ever allow me to--"

"This is the most civil conversation we've had in years, Kane. How could you possibly know what I like?"

And that stops him short, because out of his thousands of answers, not a single one fits with the reality of this moment.

"Abby." Their hands lie bare inches apart on the bed. "You could have said no."

"Could I?" She sounds choked up, and frustrated, and her voice splinters on the last word. "With how this started, and how it--" she gestures vaguely to her bruised throat-- "and how I--" she looks down, and between her bare thighs, Marcus sees the mess from her well-pleased cunt staining his white sheets. They both stare at it for a minute too long.

"You could have," he mutters, sharper than he means it.

Abby gives that defiant toss of her head. It's made no less leonine by the dried tears shining on her cheeks, but her tangled hair flops down into her face, and she doesn't move it. "When have you ever given me a reason to believe you would have stopped?"

The bitter retort that rises to his lips is _You could have tried_ , but with her glaring at him, beautiful and defenseless and unhappy in his bed and still, of all things, _resisting_ , even he can guess how those words would cut her.

"I understand."

"Well, there's no way you could, but." Abby huffs a not-entirely-convincing breath, and runs her hands through her tangled hair. "That's something. I guess."

"I still don't understand why you kept coming back."

She shrugs lamely. "You had a warm bed?"

"Last I'd heard, you hadn't lost your quarters."

"It's too cold."

_Oh._

The moment of silence that yawns between them threatens what little lifeline he clings to, these days. The words come unbidden: "Ask me. For anything."

Her eyes flash. That was a mistake. "Anything, Kane?"

He swallows. "Within reason."

She huffs, a little _hah_ , and pulls her knees up to her chest.

Sometimes he thinks they were put into this world to tear each other into little pieces.

Then she says: "Just hold me."

And that saves him.

"You're not staying here tonight."

Her eyes flash, and Abby makes a sound of shock and indignation. "No, not like that. Here."

He leans over her. This time, her fear makes his heart shudder. With steady hands, Marcus begins to re-button what's left of her shirt.

"Let's get you decent."

* * *

The Griffins' compartment seems dank and empty when Abby leads him there. Eight months since Jake fell into space, and Marcus can't help but wonder if she's slept there even once in the time since.

"Get into bed, please."

He half expects Abby to snarl, _make me_ , and finds that he hates when she doesn't. Even worse is the moment after she sinks down onto the mattress, and when he tries to follow, she puts up a hand. _Fair enough_. He's thinking that she might have changed her mind, and that he might be about to retreat to the silence of an empty room ringing with his own mistakes.

Then she starts peeling off her jeans.

"No, you don't have to--" She gives him that particular look that means _shut it,_ and keeps going. Marcus considers this for a second, then peels off his own shirt. She's gazing up at him petulantly when he hands it to her, and regards the piece of fabric as if it's something she'd scraped off the bottom of her shoe. "Not tonight," he says. Then corrects himself. "Not again."

Her eyes narrow, but she takes the shirt, and she looks so cute in its oversized length, her body showing through the too-big holes, that he's never wanted to hold her more than he does now.

The bed is small, but it will be warm now. Her spine presses up against his belly.

There will never be a way to apologize that will be enough.

But he's always known that.

He has not always known this: the woman beside him is as far from death as he has seen her in months. Marcus lies there, ignoring his own temptations, and listening to Abby's breathing slow. _In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four, in-two-three-four-five..._

_Out._

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought--even just a few words means the world!
> 
> I take requests across the board at @pixievixen on tumblr.


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